


The Night Shift

by roymaster45



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Friendship, Gags, Non-Consensual Bondage, Public Humiliation, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roymaster45/pseuds/roymaster45
Summary: Set after the events of Deathly Hallows.  Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts for her 7th year, but when she fills in for Madam Pince at the library one weekend, a malicious Slytherin student decides to take advantage of the situation.





	The Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> All characters involved are 18 or older, and belong to JK Rowling (along with all places, properties, etc.)
> 
> PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER AT THE END BEFORE COMMENTING!

Hermione Granger sighed in exasperation as she looked up and realized that she was still the only person in the Hogwarts library. When Madam Pince had fallen ill and requested a volunteer to fill in for the weekend, the Gryffindor witch had jumped at the opportunity. It was only once she actually started working there that she realized how mind-numbing the job could be.  
  
_Still,_ she thought to herself, _it’s kind of nice being in the library all day, even if I do have to patrol the shelves and keep students in check from time to time_. Earlier in the afternoon, she had taken an hour-long break to just roam the shelves and browse for books to read later. Merlin knows she didn’t have much else to do in her spare time besides read, with Harry and Ron not returning to school for their seventh year.  
  
She looked at her wristwatch and saw that it was 8:15 PM, fifteen minutes before closing time on Fridays. _I’ll make one last sweep of the library, then keep working on my essay until closing time_ , she decided as she stood up from the desk. The sweep was unnecessary at this point, but an important part of protocol regardless.  
  
A few minutes later, Hermione heard someone step up to the desk and clear their throat. She finished the sentence she was writing, then looked up and groaned inwardly. The last-minute visitor was none other than Ivy Frobisher, a seventh-year Slytherin. To everyone’s surprise, many of the Slytherins had become much nicer, friendlier people after the defeat of Voldemort. There were a few exceptions, however, and Ivy was one of the worst. The most appropriate Muggle term Hermione could think of was “a princess”. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, with glossy red hair, slender legs, and breasts that many her age would kill for; she was also the daughter of some rich someone-or-other, and as such, she usually got away with being a complete bitch. She hated many of the Gryffindors on principle, but for some reason, she seemed to have a particular grudge against Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  
  
Still, being rude and unhelpful wouldn’t make her any nicer. So Hermione smiled with cold courtesy and said, “Hello, Ivy. Can I help you?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, Granger, you can,” Ivy replied with a sour face, not even bothering to hide her disdain. “I’m looking for this book for a class assignment, and I can’t seem to find it. Could you possibly help me?”  
  
She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the desk. Hermione bent over to read the impossibly small handwriting — _A Study of Defensive Magic in the 18th Century_. “Yes, I think I know where that is. Let me show you.”  
  
As they walked towards the back of the library’s public section, Ivy asked scornfully, “You enjoying working in the library so far?”  
  
“It’s actually a little more boring than I thought it would be,” Hermione admitted, resisting the urge to spin around and give the Slytherin girl the right hook she desperately deserved. “But somebody’s got to fill in for Madam Pince, and I’ve always been curious what it would be like to be in charge of the library.”  
  
Finally, they reached the correct aisle. “Now, let’s see here…” Hermione said softly as she walked to the shelf where the book would be and started running her finger along the spines.  
  
Just seconds before she found the book, however, Ivy’s arm darted out and wrapped around her neck, pulling her close to Ivy’s body. Another hand reached out with a damp white cloth and pressed it over Hermione’s nose and mouth; the cloyingly sweet smell caused her eyes to widen as she realized the nature of her predicament. She screamed into the cloth and struggled against her captor, but it was no use. Ivy had her in an unbreakable hold, and within seconds, the chloroform had done its work. The Slytherin girl grinned evilly as she removed the cloth and let Hermione hang limply in her arms, a grin that widened when she roughly squeezed the brunette’s breasts to test whether she was still conscious.  
  
“Oh, you silly little whore… now I’ve got you right where I want you…”  


* * *

  
Hermione groaned and rolled her head from side to side, trying to clear the cloudiness in her mind. _What the hell happened to me?_ she wondered groggily. _I was talking with Ivy Frobisher, and helping to look for a book she wanted, and then next thing I knew… Ivy!_  
  
Her eyes flew wide open as she sat bolt upright. Or rather, as she tried to sit up. Looking around, she quickly determined two important aspects of her dilemma. First, that she was tied spread-eagle to one of the circular tables in the library. And second, that she had been stripped to her bra, panties, and knee-high socks. As she raised her head a little more, a tugging sensation in the back of her head alerted her to the most painful element of her bondage: her hair had been pulled into a ponytail and tied back tightly with rope.  
  
Tears began to well up in Hermione’s eyes, but they soon disappeared as her humiliation was replaced with anger. “Ivy, you goddamn bitch!” she shouted, struggling as much as she could against her bonds. “Pranking me is one thing, but this is way too far! I swear, when I get out of here, I’ll kilmmmmmph!”  
  
Ivy had appeared out of nowhere and clamped a hand over Hermione’s mouth. With a fire in her eyes, she leaned in close and growled, “Shut the fuck up or I swear, I’ll hit you with the Cruciatus Curse until you lose your mind completely. The last thing I want is to put up with your whinging while I’m trying to ruin you. Understand?”  
  
Frightened by the intensity of Ivy’s threat, Hermione's eyes widened and she nodded vigorously. As the hand removed itself from her mouth, she whispered, “Please, why are you doing this?”  
  
“Simple, really. You’re a Gryffindor Mudblood, and you’re best friends with that goody-two-shoes prick Potter — that’s more than enough reason for me.” She smiled seductively and added, “Besides, I love tying up pretty girls that are just a little bit older than me, and you fit the bill.”  
  
Out of nowhere, she produced a pair of scissors and made a threatening cutting motion with them. “Now I suggest you hold very still, Granger. We don’t want to knick that pretty skin of yours, do we?”  
  
Hermione’s face paled as Ivy grabbed the waistband of her panties and lifted up slightly. As her captor began cutting, she noticed that Ivy had taken off her own shirt and tie, revealing a voluptuous pair of breasts contained by a lacy black bra. “Just answer me one last question, please: how on earth did you plan all this out? Madam Pince has only been ill since Wednesday, and there’s no way you could have gotten all this equipment in just a day or two.”  
  
“Are you seriously that stupid? I thought you were supposed to be the smartest girl in the whole bloody school,” Ivy asked in disbelief. By this time, she had removed Hermione’s knickers, exposing her vagina. Balling them up tightly, she turned to look her victim in the eye. “I planned this out weeks ago — I got all the materials I needed, then slipped something into Madam Pince’s drink on Wednesday. I knew you would volunteer to fill in, and then it was just a matter of catching you right before the library closed. Now, open up.”  
  
In addition to Hermione’s panties, she had retrieved the Gryffindor tie from her uniform. Hermione had a sinking feeling about what her captor was planning to do with the clothes, but she knew it would just make things worse if she resisted, so she opened her mouth as wide as possible. Ivy stuffed the panties into her mouth, making sure they adequately filled the older girl’s cheeks, then fastened a cleave gag out of the tie.  
  
“Now, let’s see what that Weasley bastard is so hung up on,” Ivy muttered, reaching for the scissors again. She cut both shoulder straps of Hermione’s bra, reached around her back to unclip it, and slowly - almost teasingly - pulled the undergarment off. Hermione blushed a darker shade of red than Ivy’s hair as her breasts were exposed; they weren’t quite as ample as her captor’s, but she was far from being flat-chested.  
  
“Ooh, you’ve certainly got a nice set of tits, haven’t you, you filthy Mudblood?” Ivy chuckled. Without warning, she reached out and roughly grabbed hold of Hermione’s breasts, kneading and squeezing them like they were particularly difficult pieces of dough. Hermione’s squeal of pain jumped up an octave as the younger girl pinched down on her nipples in an agonizing vice grip; when she went back to gentle massaging and fondling, the squeal turned into a moan of pleasure.  
  
And Hermione was surprised to realize that beneath everything — beneath the embarrassment, humiliation, anger, and vulnerability — a small part of her was actually getting aroused by this. Her pulse began to quicken, she arched her back in the hopes of making better contact with Ivy’s hands, and her nipples stiffened. Her captor must have noticed this, because as one of her hands continued its work, she bent over and began sucking on Hermione’s right nipple. She swirled her tongue all over the breast, pulled at the stiff bud with her lips, and let go with a gentle “pop”; Hermione let out a long, involuntary moan of pleasure.  
  
“God, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Such a slut…” Yet even as Ivy said this, Hermione began to notice some subtle changes in her behavior. Her voice was dripping with desire, her face and neck were beginning to look flushed, and the hunger in her eyes upon seeing Hermione’s naked body had been hard to miss. One of her hands snaked down the captive Gryffindor’s stomach until it reached her swollen clit, lazily flicking it with her finger a couple times. Each flick caused Hermione to yelp into her gag, which — in turn — caused Ivy to giggle.  
  
Finally, she pulled back with a forlorn sigh and began rummaging through her bag. After a few seconds, she stood back up holding an ordinary clothespin in each hand. She didn’t bother explaining what they were for — she simply reached down, pulled each of Hermione’s nipples taut, and attached the clothespins. Hermione managed to avoid crying out in pain when the first one was clamped on, but for the second, she couldn’t help herself and groaned into her gag. Satisfied that both clothespins were in place, Ivy bent down over the table and began writing out something on a piece of parchment. After a minute or two, she held it in front of Hermione’s face with a devilish smirk. “What do you think?”  
  
With every sentence she read, Hermione grew more and more mortified:  
  
  
_Hello,_  
  
_If you’re reading this, you’re probably wondering what on earth I’m doing here. The explanation is simple — I did this to myself. I’m a bondage enthusiast, an extreme masochist, and in desperate need of some sexual relief. I realize what the consequences will probably be, but I just couldn’t help myself… I’m too much of a slutty deviant._  
  
  
_—Hermione Granger_  
  
  
“That should destroy your reputation nicely, shouldn’t it? The perfect student, revealed to be a sex addict with a strange love of pain and punishment.” Ivy’s smirk widened as she placed the note down on the table next to Hermione’s body. It was just then that she noticed her wand was also on the table next to her. Ivy licked her lips and said softly, “Just one more thing to do, I think, and then you’ll be well on your way to breaking.”  
  
She picked up Hermione’s wand and twirled it around a few times before holding it steady. Muttering a spell under her breath, she smiled as the wand came to life and began to vibrate. “The spell I just cast will start and stop the vibrations at random times,” she explained to Hermione, who looked ready to cry at this point. “So you might have 5 orgasms in as many minutes, or you might not have one all night, or you might get pulled repeatedly to the brink and then get denied. Who knows?”  
  
Ivy placed the wand against Hermione’s thigh, making sure the tip was in contact with her clit, before using another piece of Spell-o-tape to hold it in place. The bound girl squealed into her gag and thrashed against her bonds as she felt the first vibrations of the wand. Before long, however, she had relaxed against the table and started moaning into her gag again as the wand did its work. She was so absorbed in the sensation that she didn’t notice what Ivy was doing until her vision was suddenly obscured. As the Slytherin girl tied a knot behind her head, Hermione realized with a humiliated blush that she had been blindfolded with her own bra.  
  
“Well, that’s that!” Ivy said brightly, placing a wet kiss on her captive’s cheek before standing up. “I’ll turn all the lights off for you and close the door, but leave it unlocked so the first person to come in here in the morning sees you in all your glory… enjoy your new reputation as the school slut, Granger.”  
  
Hermione shouted obscenities into her gag, to no effect, as Ivy pulled her clothes back on and walked off. One by one, the lights throughout the library went dark. She heard the redhead walk to the door, cast a Muffliato Charm, and leave. At last, Hermione was alone - albeit in one of the most embarrassing and humiliating situations she could imagine.  
  
At first, she tried to force herself to ignore the wand’s vibrations. She knew Ron wouldn’t hold it against her and that all her friends would be supportive of her, but she still felt dirty and violated. In some ways, the fact that Ivy had left her alone with just a wand made it even worse; it was so impersonal and demeaning.  
  
Soon, however, her will gradually broke down, as she began moaning into her gag and felt her nether region begin to get wet. She couldn’t help moving and shifting in her bonds, but this had the unfortunate consequence of making her breasts bounce, which - in turn - made the clothespins hurt a little more. And as much as she tried to avoid the feelings of arousal coursing through her nerves, it was becoming more and more difficult to resist.  
  
Out of nowhere, the wand’s vibrations increased dramatically in intensity. Hermione squealed into her gag and struggled against her bonds, trying desperately to break free. Her efforts were futile, however. Ivy had tied the knots exceedingly well, and as her libido crept closer and closer to a peak, all the Gryffindor girl could do was urge her body not to give in. _Don’t let this happen to you, you’re stronger than this… don’t cum, Ivy was wrong, she won’t be able to break you… don’t cum, don’t cum—_  
  
And then almost without warning, the impending orgasm crashed upon her like a tidal wave. She moaned into her gag, her body spasming, as waves of pleasure racked her body. It was a guilty pleasure, however, and she found herself hoping it would end soon. Finally, just as the tremors began to subside, she felt the vibrations from the wand cease. As she regained control of her senses, a feeling of shame and filth pervaded every ounce of her consciousness. _Oh, Merlin… just make it stop!_  
  
Unable to do anything about her predicament, she wept silently and prayed for morning to come. Even if she was labeled the school slut, she just wanted the torment to end.  
  
About three or four hours later, when Hermione had lost count of how many orgasms had already been forced out of her (not to mention all the ones that had come agonizingly close), she heard the door to the library creak open. The vibrations had stopped for the moment and she debated screaming out for help, but quickly decided against it — the intruders could easily be Slytherins tipped off by Ivy. After a few seconds, a vaguely familiar voice whispered, “Lumos.”  
  
A dim light appeared at the edge of Hermione’s field of vision. She could hear the intruders moving slowly and methodically through the shelves closest to the door, and this knowledge helped her to relax somewhat — if Ivy had tipped them off, they would come straight to her instead of searching the library shelf by shelf. Indeed, even as she thought this, another familiar voice whispered, “Are you sure about this, Ginny?”  
  
“Absolutely, Luna. I checked the Gryffindor Tower and all the other places inside the castle where she might be — nothing. She’s either dead, somewhere in the grounds, or here in the library. I know which one of those possibilities I would bet Galleons on.”  
  
Ginny and Luna! Thank God they were going to be the first (and the only) people to see her like this. Hermione screamed into her gag and began thrashing about as much as her bonds would allow. The footsteps elsewhere in the library paused, then began hurrying in her general direction. The light grew in intensity until it flooded what little of her vision was unobscured; she heard Ginny gasp and say, “Holy shit — it’s Hermione!”  
  
Almost immediately, a pair of hands gently untied her bra and removed the makeshift blindfold. Hermione winced as her eyes were overwhelmed with light. Gradually, her vision adjusted to see the worried faces of her two best friends staring at her. Ginny cradled the older girl’s face in her hands and said softly, “You poor thing… are you all right?”  
  
Tears of both joy and embarrassment began to stream from Hermione’s eyes as she shook her head. “Gmt mm hht hf hmrm, plmhfm…” [Get me out of here, please…]  
  
“Oh — right.” As Luna carefully removed the wand from her crotch and stopped the vibration spell, Ginny cast Diffindo on the ropes holding her hair and arms in place. While her friends freed her legs, Hermione sat up, pulled the makeshift gag down, and spat out the panties. Throwing her arms around the other girls, she sobbed, “Thank you both… thank you so much…”  
  
“Shhh… it’s OK,” Luna whispered as she patted Hermione on the back. After a few seconds, when she had calmed down, Ginny cast Reparo on Hermione’s cut-up undergarments and helped her get dressed.  
  
“Honestly, though, who the hell did this to you?” Ginny asked fiercely as Hermione pulled on her shoes. “And don’t tell me this bloody note is true, because I’ve known you for years and you’re not like this at all.”  
  
“No, you’re right,” Hermione sniffled as she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. “It was Ivy Frobisher — she came in just before the library closed, asked me to help find a book, and then knocked me out.”  
  
“That bitch,” Ginny replied with a scowl. “I knew she was no good.”  
  
Once Hermione was fully dressed, the three of them left the library, pausing to lock the door behind them. They walked through the corridors in relative silence, with Ginny wrapping her arm around Hermione’s shoulders and Luna keeping an eye out for Argus Filch. He almost caught them once, but they all managed to squeeze into an empty classroom and escape detection.  
  
Finally, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady; her eyes were closed and she was snoring gently. Ginny cleared her throat loudly and the pink-clad woman woke with a start. She looked around wildly for a few seconds, then narrowed her eyes at the three students. “Bit late for an evening walk, aren’t we, girls?”  
  
“Can it, Winifred,” Ginny snapped. “ _Hippogriff claws_. There’s your bloody password, now will you let us in?”  
  
“Goodness, the mouth on you tonight!”  
  
The portrait began to creak open, but before any of them had a chance to step forward, it swung back into position. The Fat Lady peered suspiciously at Luna and asked, “What are you doing here? You’re not a Gryffindor.”  
  
“She’s not a Slytherin either. Look, this isn’t the first time she’s visited, and I promise you, she won’t cause any trouble.”  
  
After a few seconds, the Fat Lady sighed and swung open once more. “On your head be it, I suppose…”  
  
They walked through the entrance in single file. The common room was completely empty, and several lamps placed strategically throughout bathed the room in a warm glow. All the students had already gone to bed, and the only sign of life was a sleepy Crookshanks, perched on the arm of the couch. As Ginny guided Hermione to a chair, Luna went in search of an empty glass.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ginny asked quietly as the brunette sat down.  
  
“…not tonight, no. Maybe tomorrow.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Soon Luna sat down on the floor, cross-legged, with a small goblet in her hand. She pointed her wand at the interior, whispered “Aguamenti”, and waited as it filled with clear water. When the goblet was full, she pulled her wand away and handed it to Hermione.  
  
“Thanks,” Hermione said, taking the goblet and sipping at the water slowly. For a few minutes, none of them spoke a word; then Luna asked, “Well, what now?”  
  
Ginny thought about it for a second before addressing Hermione. “I guess you’ll get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll go talk to Professor McGonagall about what Ivy did. They might not be able to do a whole lot to her, since her father is on the board of governors, but at least we can give it a shot.”  
  
“And then?” Hermione asked quietly.  
  
In response, Ginny smirked — an all too familiar smirk, signifying that mischief was brewing behind those bright brown eyes — and uttered a single word:  
  
“Revenge.”

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: As a reminder to everyone reading this, I would like to point out that this story is a work of fiction and does not reflect my perception of, or views on, real life in any way. While I and/or many other users on this site may fantasize about situations such as the above, they should remain just that - fantasy.
> 
> It is my firm belief that bondage and BDSM should only be practiced between two or more consenting individuals in a safe, responsible manner, and that such activities should never be forced upon someone or practiced in a dangerous/irresponsible manner.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding.


End file.
